


Bittersweet Symphony

by Reality 2_1 (reality_2_0)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reality_2_0/pseuds/Reality%202_1
Summary: set 1999; He finds her in need of some TLC.





	Bittersweet Symphony

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to [Off the Couch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268351) and [TLC](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127661?view_full_work=true), but can be read as a stand-alone

He knew the signs like he knew the back of his hands; the constant frown on her face, the hand that went to her back in regular intervals, her lips pressed together tightly, and her eyes closing from time to time while she took a deep breath. 

She was in pain, and even a painkiller would only partially soothe it.

Cramps, a regular bane of her existence, one she had to bear without letting it affect her work, her social obligations. He’d always admired her iron will, how she could fool people into believing she was doing just fine.

He knew better, and once upon a time, given they were both in the same place, he’d known what to do about it, how to make it all just a tiny bit more bearable.

Now, he wasn’t sure him offering to be there for her would be welcome.

They had talked it all through at length. She had forgiven him, but that didn’t mean she had forgotten. He hadn’t forgotten either, and even a month after she let him back in her bed – their bed – they were still treating each other with a hesitancy that hurt them both. 

Still, when they entered their quarters together at the end of the day, he knew he had to do something. The dark circles underneath her eyes spoke of a bone deep weariness, and it pained him to see her like this.

“How about dinner?” she asked, turning to him.

She wouldn’t be hungry, he knew, so he only shook his head.

“How about a glass of wine?” he suggested instead, smiled softly.

“Sure, but…”

He shook his head, interrupting her. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Trust me.”

The words gave him pause. Her, too. Trust. Once she had trusted him implicitly, and while she always trusted him to do his job, it would be a long while until she trusted him with her heart again.

Their eyes met, and her gaze softened as if to tell him that it was okay, that she wanted to trust him, that she wanted to fight for their relationship, not because of the job, but because they loved each other, were right for each other.

“I’ll pour the wine,” she said simply and left for their kitchen. He in turn stopped in the living room before making his way to the bathroom, placing and lighting the few candles he’d brought. Only when he was satisfied with the dim lighting, he started drawing a bath, choosing lavender oil because she liked it. 

Starting some soft music to further a relaxed atmosphere, he waited until the tub was full before leaving the bathroom. 

He found her still in the kitchen, sipping some wine, while the second glass stood on the counter, waiting for him. She looked lost in thought as her free hand rubbed circles on the small of her back.

Early in their relationship he had asked why she rubbed her back when it wasn’t the source of her discomfort. She had laughed, telling him he should consider himself lucky being spared that particular experience, that the pain radiated, making it hard to do as much as sit upright. 

“Hey,” he greeted her. 

She turned to him, pointed at the glass waiting for him.

“Later,” he said. “Come with me.” He held out his hand to her. 

Even looking puzzled, she didn’t hesitate to put down her glass and cross the small distance between them. Trust being regained in baby steps. 

“What’s up?”

Instead of answering, he put his hand on the small of her back, hoping she’d feel some of the warmth, and guided her to the bathroom, opening the door for him.

“You need to relax,” he told her. “It’ll help with the pain.”

She looked at him again, her eyes soft, a small smile on her lips. “Yes, it will. Thank you.”

“Never for that. I’ll get you your wine while you get in.”

“Tha-”

He stopped her with a small kiss on her lips, his heart missing a beat at the soft contact, and left her to undress.

When he returned with her wine, she was almost done. He took her clothes, put them in the hamper while she got into the tub.

She groaned out when she immersed herself in the warm water. “This feels heavenly.”

“Good. Take your time. I’ll be back to check on you in half an hour.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Closing the door behind him, he fetched his glass of wine and made himself comfortable in the living room, picking up the book he’d started a few days ago. While such a quiet evening was a rare occurrence, he couldn’t focus on the book, put it aside a few minutes later. 

He could picture her now: her eyes closed, her hand on her stomach, willing the pain to lessen. He had thought more about her these last months than he had in too long a time. 

She might have forgiven him, but he was a long way from forgiving himself that he allowed life, work, his personal demons to make him disregard the best thing in his life.

When it was time, he made his way to the bathroom and found her just getting up. His eyes perused her lithe figure before he could think twice about it. She had curves in all the right places, and even knowing her for as long as he had, to see her like this still thrilled him.

This was not the time for this kind of thoughts, though, and he made sure to make eye contact while he handed her a towel. 

They both knew she didn’t need him in here, but she didn’t protest when he stepped behind her, began to towel her dry. Instead she seemed to melt into his half embrace.

“How about turning in?” he suggested.

“It’s still early.”

For them, it was.

“It will do you a world of good.”

It spoke to the level of discomfort she was in that she just nodded at him, tiredly. Although when she took the towel from him and wrapped it around herself, she looked at him over her shoulder.

“How about I go to bed alone? You don’t need to turn in because of me. You must be hungry and…”

“I want to.” The need to be there for her, to be with her was stronger than any hunger, any other urge could be. “Please.”

She smiled, got up on her toes to brush her lips against his. 

Together, they prepared for bed, and when they got in, he didn’t waste any time, made his way over to her side.

“Let me hold you.”

Their gazes met in the near dark, and he thought he saw love in hers. As she laid down on her side, he spooned her from behind, not being able to prevent the shudder running through his body at the contact. It wasn’t lust, but love, gratitude to have earned the right to touch her again. Reaching around her, he put one of his hands on her stomach, began to rub the area in slow, soothing circles.

Gradually, he felt her relax against him. He leaned down to kiss the side of her neck, elated when he felt her shiver in response.

Finally, she stopped his motions, linking his fingers with hers.

“I missed this,” she said, and there was a world of meaning behind these three little words.

“Me, too.”

He wanted to tell her that he liked taking care of her, to promise to be a so much better husband, that she was the love of his life even though his actions hadn’t been a testament to it.

Words were important, but for the time being, he’d try to let his actions speak for him. So he simply kissed her neck again, holding her until she was fast asleep.

Tomorrow morning, he’d make sure she got her favourite breakfast.

With this thought, he drifted off, feeling as whole as he hadn’t in way too long a time. 

End


End file.
